Thought yer
was comin' out yere ter meet up with Jim Westcott, didn't yer?"
She made no answer, desperately seeking some means of escape, the full
significance of her position clear before her.
"Got a nice little note from Jim," the fellow went on, "an' lost no
time a gittin' yere. Well, Westcott is not liable to be sendin' fer
yer again very soon. What ther hell----"
She had dashed forward, seeking to place the trunk of the tree between
them, the unexpected movement so sudden, she avoided his grasp. But
success was only for an instant. Another hand gripped her, hurling her
back helplessly.
"You are some sweet little lady's man, Moore," snarled a new voice
raspingly. "Now let me handle this business my own way. Go get that
team turned around. I'll bring the girl. Come on now, miss, and the
less you have to say the better."
She grasped at the bark, but the fellow wrenched her loose, forcing her
forward. Her resistance evidently angered him, for he suddenly
snatched her up into the iron grip of his arms and held her there,
despite her struggles.
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